Death Will Come
by SkyKly
Summary: After returning home from boarding school, Harry discovers that he has a hereditary, deadly disease. Unable to focus on his new job as the head of Oscorp, Harry must now figure out how to find the cure. Now having been reunited with his old childhood friend Peter Parker, the only good thing to happen of late, Harry believes he may have figured out the way to save himself...
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone! Thank you for deciding to give this story a try :) This is my first time venturing into the marvel universe, and I am very excited to begin this story! I have no idea at the moment how long it will be, so I guess we'll just see how things go. Enjoy!**

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><p>"What, did your man servants blow dry your hair this morning and lay out your clothes? Not to mention make your lunch, brush your teeth, shine your shoes... Must I go on?"<p>

"For your information, I worked the comb while one of them held the blow drier. And you're one to talk, brace face!"

"Who are you calling brace face?"

Two young eleven year old boys walked down the street together exchanging between them a friendly, teasing banter. It was obvious to any passerby that the two were the closest of friends, full of heartfelt smiles and laughs, just as children should be. Carefree and happy.

It was all too bad that their friendship was soon to end, that one of them would have their childhood abruptly end within the hour and would have to soon grow up much sooner then he should.

"Harry, why are we going to Oscorp again? I thought we were going over to your house to play! That's what I told Aunt May, at least. If that's not what we're doing she might get worried, and Uncle Ben'd get mad..." The first boy trailed off with uncertainty, reaching up a hand in an attempt to smooth down his unruly dark brown hair, worried hazel eyes meeting the light blue ones of the child next to him.

The second boy sighed, his smile fading. "Well, dad works all the time so Oscorp is pretty much my second home. I don't know, I wish he was home more but whenever I bring stuff up like that to him he says I have to make due with what I have, and that he's got more important things to deal with at the moment then me. There's _always_ something more important for him to deal with then me. Sorry about that, Peter. We can call your Aunt May when we get to dad's office, if you want. Just so she won't worry about you." He tried to shove away the pang of jealousy that went through him when he said that. Harry never had anyone but Peter to worry about him, his father didn't care in the slightest. He thought what love from his aunt and uncle Peter received at home must be nice.

"Okay, sounds good," Peter smiled, bright as ever. "We can go over to my house tomorrow then, I'm sure I could convince Aunt May to bake us some cookies!"

Harry's eyes brightened considerably at the mention of cookies, and he grinned. "You always know what to say, don't you?" He laughed as Peter playfully punched him on the arm, and the two made their way to the huge Oscorp building after a long and tiresome day at school.

They walked in through the big doors at the Oscorp main entrance, and after Harry walked up to the front desk with Peter in tow to let one of the assistants know that he was here, and if they could please let his father know, they made their way up to the abandoned office where they usually hung out together on days such as this.

After the boys had been at the building for little over a half hour, one of Norman Osborn's more important assistants rushed in, out of breath. "Harry, your father wishes to see you immediately. Come with me to his office, if you may. Quickly, please." Exchanging a brief confused glance between each other, Harry and Peter got up and followed suit. It was a rare thing for Norman to request his sons presence.

"What do you think this is about?" Peter whispered to Harry, who only responded with a small shrug of his shoulders, not at all sure of why his father wanted to see him.

They reached Norman Osborn's office, and the assistant sharply rapped twice on the door. The faint sound of a gruff voice saying 'come in' could be heard, and Mr. Osborn's assistant opened the door for the two children and ushered them inside. Once they were inside the assistant abruptly left the room, leaving Harry and Peter alone in the imposing presence of Harry's dad, none other than the head of Oscorp, Norman Osborn.

"Harry," Norman greeted his son, not giving Peter so much as a second glance. "I didn't know you brought a friend over today," he began.

"This is Peter, dad. You told me before that on days I had to come to the office I could bring along someone," Harry reminded his father, worried he was about to get in trouble for having invited Peter over that day.

"Hmm."

"Uh, is that what you wanted to talk to me about, dad?"

Norman straightened the pages in a folder laying open on his desk, and distastefully looked down at his son. "No. I called you to my office because I have an important piece of news to tell you."

"What is it?" Harry pressed curiously.

"Due to some important matters going on around here right now, oh, how to put this... I'm sending you off to boarding school, Harry."

Harry could only look at his father in shock, unable to fully comprehend what had just been said. "What?"

"I'm sending you away to attend a boarding school in Europe. Things are just too difficult around here at the moment; there have been issues, and your childhood must be given up for the good of the company. You understand, don't you?"

With his bottom lip beginning to quiver as the harsh reality of the situation began to sink in, Harry responded, "no, I don't understand. I don't see why you're sending me away because of this stupid company. That's all you ever think about, you never have any time for me! You're... you're not what a real father should be."

"I didn't expect _you_ to understand," Norman practically growled. "You're much too young, too naive and immature to realize that there are more important things to life then your happiness. Things sometimes need to be sacrificed, and in this case it's the life you've been living here. Go pack your things, boy. You leave in the morning."

Tears began to pool in Harry's quickly dimming blue eyes, and a hiccup of a sob escaped his lips. "To-tomorrow? Dad, no... You can't be serious..."

"This is no joke, son. I suggest you say goodbye to your friend," Norman glanced over at Peter for the first time that afternoon, "and I will see you off in the morning."

"But dad-"

"We are _done_ talking about this, Harry. It's a non-negotiable matter, so go home and pack up. There's a cab waiting outside to take you home, I've sent one of my assistants to escort you there. Do I have to tell you again?"

Harry lowered his eyes, light brown bangs falling over them. "No, dad," he murmured, thick tears now rolling down his pale cheek. "You don't have to tell me again. See you in the morning." And under the disapproving stare of his father, Harry scurried out of the office without another word, Peter following closely behind him.

Once they had run far from Norman's office to a small nook of a janitors closet on that same floor, a place where Harry had often come to hide over the past years, Harry fell to his knees crying. His loud hiccuping sobs turned into soft whimpers, and Peter knelt beside him with a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder the entire time, his mere presence being comfort enough.

Harry wiped the tears from his now bloodshot eyes with the collar of his navy shirt, and heaved a shaky sigh. Staring ahead blankly he asked, "what now?"

"I'm not sure," Peter admitted, his forehead creasing with apprehension. "Do you really have to go?"

"I... I do."

Peter gave his friend a reassuring smile. "It'll be fine, like a fun new adventure or something. And you get to go to Europe! How awesome is that?"

"It's not awesome if I have to be there until I graduate from high school. Dad probably won't want me coming home over the summer or anything either, I'm sure. Peter, I'm gonna be alone there. I won't know what to do, I won't have any friends, I'll be so... So _lost_."

Clasping a hand over Harry's shoulder, Peter tried to further reassure him. "I bet it won't be that bad. Just think positive, okay?" After receiving a gloomy nod, Peter added, "I'll miss you, though."

"Me too. You're the only person I've ever really been close with, you're like my brother! My brace faced brother," Harry finished, letting on a small, sad smile.

They laughed together, though their laugh wasn't as light hearted and happy as it had been earlier that day, and climbed to their feet. Making their way down to the front where Harry's cab was waiting, Peter gave a sharp intake of breath. "Oh no, I forgot to call Aunt May! She's probably worried about me. I've got to go, Harry. Do you think there'd be time for me to come and see you off tomorrow?"

"I forgot about you needing to call your aunt, I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I don't think there'll be any time for you to come say goodbye tomorrow, dad usually schedules any sort of travel for first thing in the morning. And you have school tomorrow, you don't want to be late or anything."

"Oh." Peter glanced up at the ceiling. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

"Yeah. I wish it wasn't, though."

"I don't think either of us wants it to be," Peter remarked. "Bye, Harry. I'll miss you. I'm sure you'll make a ton of new friends in Europe! Just don't... Don't forget about me, okay?"

"I don't think I could ever forget you!" Harry laughed, Peter's friendly smile making the whole goodbye process slightly easier. "Bye, Pete. I'll miss you too."

They finished with a quick, brotherly embrace, and all too soon Harry was being escorted into the posh private cab outside the Oscorp building while Peter waved to him from the sidewalk. As the cab drove away, Peter's optimistic charade that he had kept up the entire time he'd been around Harry in an attempt to make things easier for his best friend faded. His smile drooped into a saddened frown, and he tried his best not to cry as well. He couldn't believe it; Harry was leaving for more then a few years, and he might not ever see him again.

It began to rain, and Harry watched droplets of water pound on the window of his taxi cab as Peter trudged home with only a hoodie to protect him from the wet weather.

When Peter finally arrived home, he knocked on the door and Aunt May rushed to open it for him. She asked him where he had been, and when Peter halfheartedly muttered 'Oscorp' she told him what he already knew; that he should have phoned. She laid off the boy when she noticed his sorrowful, depressed expression.

"What's wrong, Peter?" She worriedly asked, fretting over him and ushering him inside to sit with her on the couch. "You look so sad. Did something happen at school? Were others being mean to you?"

"No, Aunt May, it's nothing like that."

"Then whatever is the matter?"

Peter felt tears filling his eyes, and he snuggled closer to his aunt as he told her the bad news. "It's Harry. He's going away. His dad just told him that he's sending him to boarding school in Europe, and he's leaving tomorrow morning. I don't know when, no, _if_ he'll ever come back."

"Oh dear, that's too bad. You two are such close friends..."

Looking up at Aunt May, Peter asked her, "will I ever see him again?

"Yes," she replied with strong definition. "I assure you that you'll see your friend again. I promise you that someday, he will come back."

_Someday_.

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><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love it if you were to leave a review, but please, just constructive criticism and nothing mean ^~^ Follows and favourites are very much appreciated, and I look forward to writing future chapters!<strong>


	2. The Osborn Curse

**Wow, three follows and faves already! Thanks to everyone who's read the first chapter and for leaving mostly nice reviews. It is very appreciated, and I love all the support you guys give. So my plan for this story is to go along the plot of The Amazing Spider Man 2, with some added scenes and twists of my own. Some of the dialogue will be the same and some will be different, so it will be a combination of what actually goes on in the movie as well as my own version of it. And this story is from Harry's perspective. I hope everyone likes it, and if you have any questions please feel free to pm me!**

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><p>Silence.<p>

The driver of the posh limousine I was currently riding in wasn't the most talkative type, so I was in for a long ride of silence from the airport to my arranged destination. I had expected as much; people of a lesser standard then I was were usually unsure of wether it was okay to talk to me, and I soon set them straight with a quick reminder of just exactly _who_ they were trying to speak to. This limo driver was evidently tongue-tied, as he rightfully should be.

I clasped and unclasped my hands on my lap, anxiously waiting. For what, I didn't really know. I had absolutely no idea what to expect upon my arrival. I hadn't been back here in many a year, and with no calls or anything from home I may as well have been a stranger to this place, the place in which I had spent the first eleven years of my brief childhood.

The limo pulled to a stop after awhile, and I rolled my tinted window down. I had an unmissable annoyed expression on my face as someone rushed to open the door for me almost right away. It was an older man, dressed in a refined dark suit and tie. I immediately got a weird vibe from him, almost as though he had no respect for someone of my age and experience. I'd have to keep an eye on this one, as my first instincts were often right. I prided myself at reading people well.

"Welcome home, Mr. Osborn."

I gave a small, brief nod in the general direction of the speaker, but I was much too nervous to pay them much attention. My hand began to twitch, and although it was probably because of my pent up anxiety, I couldn't understand why it was happening. Just within this past month my hands had involuntarily began to twitch, and they never had before. I dismissed it. There were more important things to think about right now.

I was led into a building and down a dimly lit corridor. My escort introduced himself to me as the vice president of Oscorp, and I faintly heard him saying that his name was 'Donald Menken.' I didn't really know what to make of him yet.

After that, everything was much too quiet. First the limo ride, and now this. It could have possibly been me, maybe I was just tuning everything out...

I realized that my escort - Menken, was it? - had just spoken to me, and he was looking at me as though he expected a response. "Sorry?" I asked, too worried to be embarrassed at being caught in a daze. "I didn't catch that."

Menken sighed, and I bit back a remark that led somewhere along the lines of something rude I was sure he wouldn't have appreciate hearing. I decided that I didn't like him. "I said that I thought it'd be best to warn you that its dark, and your eyes will adjust," he repeated for me.

That took me a moment to register. I noticed that we had stopped along the corridor at a door, and I guessed that this was where _he_ must be.

"It's better this way."

That comment caught me completely off guard, and I didn't know what to think of it. Before I had time to second guess myself any further, Menken opened the door and invited me inside.

I took a second to unwind my scarf from around my neck, and handed it off to him. After straightening my jacket, I did a quick once over on myself and walked in to the room.

The room was much darker than I had expected. I could barely see anything; only dark shapes and even darker shadows filled my line of vision. I caught sight of a shape that looked like a bed, complete with curtains of plastic surrounding it.

I inched over to the bed and tentatively reached out to pull back the plastic curtain, my hand slightly trembling.

"Harry?" A voice croaked, and although it was much more raspy then I previously recalled, there was no mistaking it. I'd know that voice anywhere. The voice of my father.

I tried to speak, but no words came. What does one say to the very man who singlehandedly destroyed his childhood? Was there even anything that could be said?

Thankfully he spoke first, though the words he did say hurt me more than any silence could have. "This is not how I imagined I would die," he started, "looking at my son and seeing a stranger. You have such potential, Harry. Such fierce intelligence, and you're throwing it all away."

My fist clenched, and I restrained myself from outright yelling at him. Who was he to say these things to me? How _dare_ he? He was no father. Not to me.

"No," I shot back, unable to help myself, "You threw _me_ away." Once the first sentence came out of my mouth, the rest of them came tumbling after. "You kicked me off to boarding school when I was eleven. On my sixteenth birthday, you sent me Scotch. Or one of your assistants did, I'm pretty sure, because the card read '_With compliments, Norman Osborn_.'" My voice had begun to tremble, and I took a deep breath to calm myself. This man had no idea how much he'd hurt me, and I cruelly hoped to make him feel a little guilt before he died. Like father, like son.

There was no known cure for the disease he had, and it was too far along for my father to have any chance of being saved. I didn't know what to feel, so for now I tried to keep the rage to a minimum and aimed at feeling nothing. Of course, a feat like that was impossible, but I couldn't resist trying.

He glowered at me. I could see those beady eyes glinting at me from the bed where he lay. By now, my eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting, and I wished they hadn't. My father looked positively grotesque. Green and yellow, he was beyond the point of looking sickly. Whatever disease he had, it was incredibly deadly. He hardly looked human anymore, and I retched.

"I don't expect forgiveness from you anymore," he growled. He would always speak in a growl when he was mad, even when I was little. Before he sent me away. "I don't believe in miracles. How could you possibly understand that your childhood had to be sacrificed for something greater?" Ah, he was trying to pull a guilt trip on me, was he now? "And not just for me," his voice grew with intensity, "for _you_!"

I didn't believe him. I couldn't. He had never done anything for me. Everything he had ever done had been for his own personal gain.

"Has your hand started to twitch yet?" I stiffened. How... How did he know? "When you lay awake and you feel it coming, hiding under your skin, waiting to show itself. To show you who you really are." My heart began to beat faster. I was sweating. He was describing my symptoms so perfectly, almost as though he had experienced the same thing himself. Fright had taken me over, paralyzing my entire body in fear.

"Retro viral hyperplasia," he stated. "I never told you that it's genetic. Our disease, the Osborn curse. And it began at your age."

Oh. My. _God_.

That was what my father had? That was what caused him to look like this? Green and scaly, yellow talons and other sickeningly unhumane physical properties... And it was hereditary. My fate had seemingly been decided without my consent. Sweat was beginning to form on my brow, and I rubbed the sore spot that had started on my neck. The skin there had been becoming increasingly red and itchy over the past few days. Could it be part of my own disease? I was scared to find out.

"Let me see it," he suddenly instructed. "Your hand. Give it to me." I slowly stretched out my shaky, sweaty hand. I couldn't stop it from trembling, no matter how hard I tried. When it was within reach, my father grabbed it. I expected him to examine it or something, but instead he roughly turned my hand over and dropped a small device in the shape of a cube onto my opened palm. My grip closed around the object instinctively. I could tell that whatever this was, it was important.

"The greatest inheritance I can give you isn't merely money. It's this. The sum total of all my work. Everything I did to stay alive." My eyes widened. There were so many questions I had for him, so much that I absolutely needed to know. Above all was a question that had started eating me up but a minute ago; how long did I have left to live?

He coughed in the wheezing way of one who had to fight for every single godforsaken breath. "Maybe you can succeed where I failed."

I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bear seeing my father in such a state, although I was assured it was no less than what he deserved. I stood up suddenly, and before he could say another word I practically bolted for the door.

My sketchy escort Menken was waiting for me outside the room. I ignored the question of how my visit had gone and brushed right past him, heading down the hall and out the door. I needed to be alone.

It was all too much to take in. I was dying. I was freaking _dying_. Right at this very second I was ever closer to an early death, my stupid, unfair disease taking my life faster then it should.

Even money wouldn't help me in this case. It had always been such an easy option, always so able to help, especially since I'd been born with more money and was to be passed down more power than I knew what to do with. How does one even pay for a cure? I could hire a specalist to attend to me privately, but there was still a chance that word would get leaked to the media, and I didn't really want the world to know that I, the heir owner of Oscorp, was dying from a genetic disease. For all I knew, people'd just try to kill me faster and take the wealth. If I was in there position, I'd probably do the same thing.

I swore to myself that I would not meet the same fate as my father. I would find a cure, so help me. I would survive.

"Mr. Osborn?"

"Shut up," I snapped, turning to see Menken standing a few feet away. His expression when I said that to him looked similar to that of a person who'd recently sucked on sour lemons, and the result was utterly satisfying. It's not my fault that I was in a bad mood. He'd just have to deal with it.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, not sounding like he was sorry at all. I guessed that he wasn't used to anyone speaking to him like I just had. "It's just that-"

I waved him away in a dismissive fashion, silencing him mid sentence. "I don't _care_," I stated rather bluntly. "Now leave me be and go away."

"But, sir-"

"Do I have to damn well spell it out for you? I want to be alone right now. Go. Away." I glared at him as he opened him mouth to speak again and he seemed to shrink. He had better learn his place quickly, or else there would be trouble in store for him.

Menken inched away, and turned on his heel and strode silently back towards the building. Once he was out of sight, my shoulders sagged and the weight of the situation came bearing down upon me. Once I got settled in here, as I would soon be taking over Oscorp completely due to my father's unavoidable death, I had some research to do about my newfound disease.

I absent mindedly turned the device my father had given me over and over in my palm. I wondered what information it contained, and whether it would lead me on the right track as far as healing went.

I grit my teeth as a pang went through my neck. Reaching up my hand, I felt the irritated patch of skin there and grimaced. My virus was growing. I would have to work fast if I was to have any chance of survival.

What better time to start my research then the present?

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><p><strong>Since I've gotten reviews already, I guess I'll begin responding to them right away :) Thanks again for reading, I hope this chapter was to your liking!<strong>

**Melkor'sOnlyLieutenant ~** Thank you so much for reading :) This does follow the plot for The Amazing Spiderman 2, and includes some of the dialogue from the movie, so its a mix between the movie and stuff I've added. If you ever watch the movie you can compare th scenes :D It is a great movie, I highly suggest it. Ah I know, I've wanted to give Norman a good smack countless times before too.

**Legendoffun ~** Yay! Thanks, I'm glad you think so. XD

**Beth ~ **Thank you! It's comments like these that make me want to update quickly ^.^


	3. Inheritance

**New chapter is up! Don't forget to leave a review once you're done reading, I love feedback! I know you're here to read and not listen to me rant, so without further ado... Please enjoy ^~^**

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><p>I walked alone through the once familiar halls of Oscorp. People turned to look at their soon to be CEO as I passed, and I led myself through the various levels and rooms of the tall building. If I was going to become the owner of this place upon my fathers passing, it'd probably be best if I vaguely knew at the very least where everything around here was.<p>

Menken had offered to lead me around today as a personal tour guide of sorts, apparently having forgotten yesterday's outburst. There was much to see, and a guide would have helped, but I don't believe he understood that when I had told him to leave me alone after seeing my father yesterday, I had meant for a long while. I could see that he didn't trust me, for who was I but a twenty year old boy in charge of the biggest corporation around, all because I was the only son of my _great, successful _father?

Heh. He underestimated me. Everyone did.

After countless hours of looking at the various things Oscorp had to offer, I decided to retire to my new office. There was nothing more to see, for I had explored every easily accessible room around, and I was not at all interested in running into any of the press. Conversation snippets I'd caught from the many people around here had informed me that everyone was wondering as to how I would fare with the multi million dollar company. Wasn't everyone just so curious? And here I was still believing that curiosity had killed the cat.

I stepped into the pristine glass elevator. My office was nearly at the top of the building with a glorious view overlooking the big and bustling city. When I did so, I saw that I was not alone.

A young woman stood in the corner of the elevator, straight brown shoulder length hair with perfectly even bangs and a tight fitting yet classy short sleeved black dress. She glanced up at me as I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button of the floor to which I was headed, and our eyes met for an excruciatingly brief moment. Long, dark lashes framed her big brown eyes, and all too soon she looked away, down at the floor.

We went up a few floors together in silence, and then the elevator doors opened. The woman walked out of the elevator and turned around the corner, sneaking a final curious glance at me as she left and making her way down the hall. The elevator doors closed and it began heading upwards again, but the distinct sound of her shiny high heeled shoes clicking on the floor echoed in my mind for the rest of the ride.

She seemed somewhat familiar, and I couldn't recall why I could swear that I'd seen her face before for the longest while. Walking to my office it played on my mind and then all of a sudden, it hit me.

I faintly recalled someone mentioning my fathers assistant earlier this day. They had motioned to a photo on the wall, and that woman was the same person in that photo. Would she be my assistant now? I guess I'd find out at my introductory board meeting tomorrow, although I could probably request it if I really wished.

Best to focus on more important things at the moment. Like my disease.

I walked over to the huge window in my office room and stood looking out at the city for a short while. It was a nice way to relax, and the view was lovely.

I then felt myself tense instinctively. What in the world had that been? There in the distance, swinging across from building to building as a blurred flash of red and blue... Spider Man. It had to have been, for who else would dare attempt such stunts in public?

I personally didn't know what to make of the famous web slinger, and the media had mixed feelings about him too. Some said that he was a criminal, taking away the job of the police and providing a serious safety hazard to the public. Some said that he was nothing but a true hero, only here to help out distressed and endangered citizens. These days, more and more people were beginning to become convinced of the latter.

My own opinion landed somewhere in between the views of the media and public majority. This famed spider guy had never done anything good or bad to me personally, so who was I to say?

I took a step away from the window, shaking thoughts of Spider Man from my mind and walking over to my desk that doubled as a touch screen computer; new high technology Oscorp equipment.

For hours that day I searched for a cure to my disease, but found next to nothing. I was feeling about ready to give up my fruitless search. I'd looked through every possible online website, and I could barely find even a vague list of known symptoms.

I had only found out that my disease was very rare and very deadly, and that once reaching the age of twenty it sped up and began to show itself. From there it had gone into slightly more detail about skin issues, discoloration, and excruciating, unbearable pain. It was basically a horrible skin disease mixed with a deadly virus.

Oh, and there was no known cure. How helpful.

I walked over to the table and poured myself a drink, settling myself down on one of the plush chairs in the center of the office. I then decided to turn on the television out of lack of anything more productive to do, unaware that I was in for quite the shock.

Breaking news came up straightaway, and my eyes widened at the flashing headline.

_Norman Osborn just announced dead; Oscorp succeeded by his only son, Harold._

It cut away to live footage of the room I'd visited just yesterday, with my father's bed now empty and the room being cleaned. Was that a green laser scanning the bed? I couldn't be sure. The clip was over much too soon for my liking, and there was something slightly suspicious as to how the room was bring cleaned. What was the need for a green laser on the deathbed of my father?

I was trying to stall the pain. It all hit me suddenly. He was gone. For all the missing or broken pieces to our sad little joke of a relationship, it still sent a pang of grief through me. I had no tears to shed for him, but it left a small part of me hurting all the same.

That hurt was soon replaced by bubbling, outraged anger. Why hadn't anyone thought to tell me sooner? Was I truly that unimportant around here?

I picked up the phone on my side table and dialed the front desk, not knowing anyone else's number just yet. It rang once. Twice.

"Hello, information at Oscorp. How may I help you?"

"Yeah," I started, unsure of who to ask for. Someone to get mad at, someone who should have told me about the death of my father the very second his once pulsing heart stopped beating. Ah, yes. I knew just the man. "I wanted to speak to someone by the name of Menken, but I don't have access his number at the moment. Could you transfer this line to him?"

"Of course," the unnaturally chipper voice of a bright female employee replied. "Could I get your name first, so to inform Mr. Menken of his caller?"

"Sure," I smiled mischievously into the receiver. "Let him know that Mr. Osborn needs to speak with him straightaway."

"Absolutely Mr-," I heard her voice falter as she noted my famous name, "Mr. Osborn. Please hold."

I waited, drumming my fingers on the arm of the chair in which I was seated. Just as I was beginning to grow impatient, Menken answered.

"Hello sir?"

He said it as more of a question than a proper greeting, and my grin widened considerably. He was caught in the act; he knew exactly why I had called him and he knew already that he was in deep trouble. I decided to cut straight to the chase.

"When did it happen? How long?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Don't you dare try to play dumb with me. My father is dead, and I want answers. I want to know when it happened and why no one thought to inform me, and I want to know why I found out about it on the damned _news_."

"I'm sorry about that, but you had told me earlier that you wished to be left alone and undisturbed... I was only doing as you had asked earlier."

I was silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say to such an unorthodox response. That man got on my nerves, and so help me the next time I saw him...

"There are a few blatantly obvious circumstances in which it is okay to talk to me," I said stonily. "This just so happened to be one of those incredibly rare occasions. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

"Yes," Menken replied, and I could swear that he had rolled his eyes at me from his end of the line. I just knew it, and it made me hate him all the more. "I'll see to it that it never happens again. Now, unless there was something else you needed to talk about, I have to attend to something in the genetics department. Oh, and I wish you condolences on your fathers passing."

I was too stunned and angered to make a reply, and Menken took that as a signal that our conversation was ended and that he was now allowed to hang up the phone. I heard the beep as our lines disconnected and I swore.

I was so angry at everything; at my disease, my dead father, Menken, and the stupid company that took my childhood from me, the one that I was ironically in charge of now.

I stood up and went to my desk to pour myself a drink. I tipped the tall flask of amber liquid into a short glass and downed it, immediately pouring myself another. Forgetting, especially in this particular way, was never the right option. I just didn't know what else to do.

I took the second glass full and turned to head back over to the chair. As I did so, a painful spasm went through my body. I was unprepared for the moment of anguish I just endured, and accidentally dropped the glass in the process.

Shards of sharp glass shattered everywhere, and the drink it had contained spilled on the floor. I winced at a stinging feeling on my neck, sure it had gotten cut by a wayward shard, and pressed my hand to it.

That was a mistake, as I quickly found out.

I cried out as my hand touched the skin on my neck, and quickly recoiled. That was no glass shard. There wasn't any blood.

I strode over to the nearest thing that could act as a mirror to me, which just so happened to be the huge window. When I saw my reflection and my eyes strayed to my neck, I couldn't help but gape.

Where there had been but a patch of slightly irritated skin just yesterday, there was now a blistering, sickly yellowish red colored welt. The skin there looked mutated, and my mind created a vision of my father in his dying state.

My neck wound was most definitely due to my disease. The comparison of this small patch of skin to my fathers was so horrifying it took everything in me not to call a doctor at that very second. I was scared. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want anyone else to know about it.

Not only was it utterly disgusting and incredibly unappealing to look at, but it was also very noticeable. Anyone who had seen my father would make the connection between my skin abnormality and his life taking virus. I guessed that I'd be wearing a scarf more often now.

Slightly shaken, I brushed my fingertips as lightly as possible over my neck wound, and grimaced. Even that hurt.

I collapsed on the chair and closed my eyes in exhaustion. Life was so _unfair_. I had never asked for this, I didn't deserve this.

I felt myself drifting off to sleep but I didn't care. I didn't want to be too tired for my board meeting tomorrow. Oh, how excited I was to sit in a room with a dozen people who most likely wanted me fired.

Maybe with rest would come a cure, too, though that I highly doubted.

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><p><strong>Review time! Thanks for the support so far, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!<strong>

**Melkor'sOnlyLeitenant ~ **Thank you! Let me know what you think of the movie once you watch it. I'm sure that you'll love it!

**Legendoffun ~** You're welcome, I'm really getting into writing this story; I can barely stop! I'm so glad you think so :)

**KellyOsborne ~ **Uh, I don't have a domestic wives, MSN or MySpace... I think you've got the wrong person ^^' I've never listened to your Chinese opera or folklore musique, but I can grantee that I won't be checking it out any time soon. Love you bae :* He doesn't have the urge to do the rice paddy dance, um, and I don't believe Donald Menken knows where Hyrule is. He is very uneducated, as you must have noticed by now. Who doesn't know about cute Minish? Ahem, I mean minions, of course. How are Bob and Joe doing, by the way? Still working overtime? I see your friend Machetelord left a review for chapter 1, please send him/her my deepest regards. Yes, as for the whole Scotch thing, how about we just give Norman the super failed parenting award, shall we? Norman wasn't Asian, sorry... I think you meant Harry, not Peter. Peter is Spider Man. Harry is the main character of this story, gosh XD Yeah, I don't think anyone is going to be turning into big bird, sorry, I know how much you love Sesame Street. Especially Cookie Monster. Maybe he'll make an appearance (haha no) The whole 'shoulder sagging' thing wasn't a typo. Nice try though. I didn't know it was Hanukkah already XD


	4. Board Meetings & Reunions

**This next scene was one of my favorites to watch from the movie. I don't know, but there was something about it that I loved, and writing out what I believed were Harry's thoughts in this chapter was incredible! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

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><p>I was not at all interested in attending my board meeting on this gorgeous early afternoon. The sun was out, and a nice walk around the city to take my mind off things would have been nice. Of course, that wasn't to be my reality. No, I had to be stuck indoors with a room full of people who not only didn't trust me, but were more then likely out to get me fired as well.<p>

I walked into the meeting room with what I thought was five minutes to spare, but to my initial surprise it was already full. I was greeted with stares of tons of _older_ people who were looking me over with pity, practically screaming at me for my immaturity and irresponsibility through just their eyes.

I wouldn't be shaken. This was my company now, and damn it, if any one of these geezers didn't like it they could get the hell out. Good riddance. I could always hire someone else in their place and the company would be better off.

I sat down in my chair at the head of the long table, and tried to ignore the dozen or so people judging my every move. I noticed Menken sitting directly on my right, and didn't even bother to look him in the eye or nod a form of greeting. I didn't feel like being polite.

I played around with the small device my father had given to me before his death. Absentmindedly twirling it around, transferring it from one hand to the next. Sure, I was supposed to start the meeting, but I had no idea what to even say. Oh well, they could wait a little longer.

After a few moments of awkward tension around the table, Menken cleared his throat. Finally, someone was going to speak, even if it did so happen to be one of the people I despised the most.

"Harry," he began, "Oscorp's been under intense public scrutiny in the wake of Dr. Connors recent, er, breach of trust."

He left it at that, plain and simple. It was more than a statement; it was a warning. It came with a message, and it was an obvious set up. I decided to play it safe and clarify his statement in a way lacking any maturity, just to get on everyone's nerves a bit.

"You mean people people are pissed off because he's tried to turn everyone in New York into giant lizards."

I said it too as a truth, not a question. Everyone knew what had happened, so why bother to hide from the inevitable truth behind fake, soft words? Besides being a cushion, those kind of words could only provide so much.

There was a few moments of silence where everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats, glancing at one another. It was evident to me that no one wanted to accept or deny my statement, and their squirming delighted me so.

"Given that," Menken slowly put in, "all the animal hybrid programs he was involved in were destroyed, to restore and fester confidence." Confidence? Just what was this guy playing at? So we were just going to hide everything away now and pretend like it had never happened...? Hmm. I didn't really want to run a company in that fashion.

I spun once around in my chair. When I faced the table again, I said bitterly, "ah. That _is _the Osborn way. Whatever's in the way, just get rid of it, right?"

Why did all that crap sound familiar?

Was that not exactly what my father had done to me? He had sent me away for the sake of the company when I was eleven. _Always_ for the company. I was once in the way, so my father had gotten rid of me. Apparently these people expected the same of me.

I wasn't a thing like my father; that was something they would soon learn.

"Much of that scrutiny may fall on you now," Menken said. No, really? I'd have never known. Please ignore my sarcasm, I'm unable to contain it.

Looking around, Menken then gestured to the rest of the board. "We've felt that plausible deniability was your best option."

I had expected nothing less.

"Sure, sure, I get it. Twenty year old kid, two hundred billion dollar company, what was dad thinking? I mean, you're all lawyers, right?" I glanced around, meeting each of their eyes in an accusatory way. "Surely _somebody_ must have questioned his sanity in the end. Someone must have thought about having him declared legally incompetent; would've made this conversation a lot easier." My voice had grown sharp and rough, emotion flitting between the words. I took a breath to calm myself, and I hoped the others couldn't see me shaking. This had escalated much too quickly. I wanted to get up and walk out right then and there, I'd had enough of these people.

Menken just had to butt in again. "Harry-"

"It's Mr. Osborn," I said. Feigning an insincere smile I couldn't help but add, "we're not friends."

I looked around at the members of the board again, and noticed a person I hadn't spotted before. A woman, the very same woman from the elevator yesterday. Out of all of the people in the room, she was the only one looking down at the table in front of her, not meeting my eyes. She was practically hiding behind her shiny brown hair, all the way on the other side of the room.

"Hi," I said, looking down past everyone at her. The rest of the board turned their heads to look as well, and when the woman realized that everyone was looking at her she raised her head, looking straight past everyone and at me. My heart skipped a beat, something I tried to ignore, though I had admittedly missed those eyes. "You were his assistant, right?"

She nodded her head and gave a 'mhmm' in response, not at all fazed to have all eyes on her.

She seemed so different than the rest of them. She was my fathers assistant, and if she was still loyal to this company after what had happened to him, she was someone who would most likely stay loyal. I convinced myself that I wasnt being biased, as I had few options for an assistant. I didn't even know if I really needed one. But first impressions always spoke loudly to me, and I was getting a good vibe from this woman.

I hoped that she would prove to be someone I could trust, but for now I would only be able to judge that on my first take of her. I wasn't often incorrect about guessing at someone's character.

"What's your name?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Felicia."

"Felicia," I restated, getting a taste for the name. It was quite nice, actually. It suited her. I was going to go with my gut and trust her. No, not being biased at all.

"From now on everybody at this table works for Felicia, because Felicia works for me," I informed the board. I could send matters through her to discuss with everyone else. Perfect. The less time I spent around these people the better.

I saw Felicia twirling a pen in her hand, a faint smile playing on her lips. My only worry was that I had given her too much power too quickly. I guessed that I would see in due time how all that was to work out.

"Would anybody like to speak up?" I asked, looking around. Silence. "Well good, then you can all keep your jobs a little longer."

Just then the door to the meeting room opened, and a well dressed man walked in, straight up to me. He bent down and spoke softly into my ear.

"Sir, there's a Peter Parker here to see you."

I barely noticed him walk away. My mind had gone blank at the name Peter Parker. He had come to visit me? He _remembered_ me?

I didn't know what to do. Did I leave the meeting part way through just to go talk to an old friend?

The thing was, this wasn't just any old friend. This was Peter, my one and only real best friend. I'd made friends in Europe, sure, but none of those friends were what I'd consider to be real. They had hung around me a lot for the money; for the sweet ride. It had been fun, and during those times I'd nearly forgotten just how much I had missed Peter's friendly face and warm smile. Nearly, but never completely.

I had been so lost in thought that I hadn't noticed everyone's attention had turned back to me, waiting for me to say something.

The meeting could wait.

I picked up a sheet of paper that I'd been saving until the end of the meeting. "Felicia, I want to see every file on this list," I said, standing up. "Every single one."

I strode out of the room, anxiety eating away at me as I went to go see Peter. What if he had changed? What if it got weird?

I exited the board meeting room and walked down the hall to the incredibly small flight of stairs leading to the back door. There he was.

Incredibly tall and thin, with the same unmistakable ruffled brown hair. He was standing awkwardly by the door, scuffing his feet on the carpet. He was actually here. I couldn't believe it - nobody had ever cared enough to come and see me.

"Peter Parker," I said, catching his attention. He looked up. "It's like seeing a ghost."

"Hey, Harry."

I really didn't know what to say to him. Never once in my youth had I not known what to say to my best friend, but there were so many lost years between us, and we were both so different now. What does one even say?

"Random." My forehead creased as I tried to calculate the last time I'd seen him. "Ten years?"

"Eight," he corrected with a smile. "You're close."

I had missed that smile dreadfully, and the sad part was how long it had taken me to realize it. I paused for a moment, and an uncomfortable silence settled between us.

"What's up?" I asked, half curious and half hoping to start an actual conversation.

"I saw the news, man. I heard about your dad and I wanted..." He faltered slightly and I couldn't help but catch it, "wanted to come and see you. See how you're doing."

I frowned slightly. This unprecedented concern, well, I didn't know what to make of it. I wasn't doing too well at the moment, and while seeing Peter was nice and all, it was a bit early to be telling him about all my problems. But I didn't want to lie and say I was fine, either.

"I'm, uh," I stalled, searching for words. "I'm with some people. I'm in... I'm in a meeting." I didn't want to cut out reunion short, but I had nothing else to say. At least it wasn't a lie.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to intrude," he said, a hint of unsureness in his tone. "It's been a long time, and I kinda know exactly what you're going through right now. And you were so there for me when my parents, well," he looked downcast, "that's why I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

I meant it. In the moment, though he didn't know it, I was thanking him for so much. For being there for me, for visiting me, actually caring... There was so much to thank him for.

He began to back away, and I felt a rock fall to the pit of my stomach. Was he leaving already? "Ah, well, it's good to see you, man. It's good to see you. Sorry about your dad." He sounded like he was going to go. He was heading out the door.

I really didn't want him to leave. He was such a comfort to me, even now. I stepped forward. I had to think of something to say...

"You got your braces off," I smiled, remembering our exchanges as children. "Now there's nothing to distract from your unibrow."

To my delight, Peter began to laugh. "There he is," he grinned. "There he is! You still blow dry your hair every morning?"

Now it was my turn to let out a chuckle. I felt so refreshed, so light all of a sudden. "Um, you know, one of my man servants holds the blow drier, but I work the comb, okay, so at least I'm not completely helpless." I pretended to shrug my shoulders in a 'what can I do?' fashion, and we both burst out in laughs.

Peter sighed. "Stupid," he said, still all smiles. We erupted into another round of laughter, and met each other halfway on the staircase in a greeting embrace. This was how it should be, and maybe, just maybe things were getting better for me.

Peter and I had a whole lot of catching up to do. I couldn't wait.

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><p><strong>Thats all for now! Please leave a review if you can, I really value feedback!<strong>

**Melkor'sOnlyLieutenant ~** I'm not certain exactly how old Harry's dad was when he died, but since Harry himself was twenty I can assume his dad was somewhere in his fifties. So yes, quite a bit younger then most people would die. Well, Peter is back now so hopefully things will start to turn around for Harry. Thank you for reviewing! :)

**Legendoffun ~ **Yeah, the ending was a bit freaky. I got worried for him just writing it XO I apologize for leaving you out on details on the girl, Felicia, last chapter, but since this story is through Harry's eyes you'll be finding out more about her as he does! Hopefully you got some more details this chapter :) Peter came to Harry! Yay! Please, continue being suspicious of Menken. I won't say too much, but that man...


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